


The Dot Over the I

by SnappleApple11



Category: Supernatural, The Good Place (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Episode: s03e11 Mystery Spot, Friendship, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, It's always tuesday somewhere, Pre-Season/Series 01, The dot over the i, and everywhere, creative use of jeremy bearimy timelines, pre-episode mystery spot, tuesday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:33:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29797506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnappleApple11/pseuds/SnappleApple11
Summary: Tuesdays had significance in a number of universes. Gabriel was just taking advantage of that fact to enjoy the little things in life, like torturing the Winchesters and mentoring a demon from an alternate reality where hell's theme song was "Kars-4-Kids".AKA: Dimension jumping with an archangel and a demon. Because Gabriel and Pre-series Demon Michael would’ve gotten a kick out of each other. And what are Tuesdays anyway?
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	The Dot Over the I

**Author's Note:**

> Michael: “This is Tuesdays. And also July.”  
> Janet: “And sometimes it’s never.”  
> Michael: “That’s true. Occasionally that moment on the Bearimy timeline is the time, a moment, when nothing never occurs.”
> 
> *Has this been done yet? The SPN/Good Place crossover no one asked for.

Tuesdays were fluff in the timeline. They weren’t Mondays, so no one could justifiably say “Mondays, am I right?” - Not that anyone ever should. It was a slap-worthy offense in many a work environment Gabriel had poked his head in on - but it was still too early in the week to be looking forward to the weekend without being heartbreakingly reminded just how far away that was. 

Tuesdays were the Delaware of days. The kind of day you’d balance your checkbook on and drive through on your way to somewhere more exciting like Thursday or Virginia. They weren’t the New York/California Saturdays or the work horse Wednesdays of the farmer belt. Not even the jokingly maligned “are we there yet?” Friday of New Jersey (So close to a New York Saturday but not quite as exciting). 

The day was limitless, infinite in possibility but unending in length. For better and worse. And it was precisely that infinity that Gabriel had taken advantage of on more than one occasion to hop around his Father’s multiverse of creation for shits and giggles. Which was precisely how he’d ended up in this alternate reality again. One with a mathematical set of point-gathering rules that played to nobody’s favor for its upstairs and downstairs afterlives. 

“You again?”

Gabriel turned and threw his arms out in false excitement. “Mikey-baby! How’s my favorite alternate reality demon doing?” Because he knew it annoyed him, Gabriel threw some finger guns. “You up for that promotion yet? Running your own torture schemes is a Big Deal, you big deal.” 

The bow-tie clad demon, wearing a meatsuit old enough to be a doting grandfather but with enough hair on his head to rival a Miss Universe contestant, was confused more than anything, Gabriel could tell. All demons had the same pinched face when they were confused. Half the time it was funny. The other 50% it was a constipated face that made Gabriel want to take a sympathetic shit in the nearest corner of his own pants. Which may have been the point of the face, come to think of it. 

“How do you keep getting in here? Are the interdimensional walls being re-plastered again? I thought that wasn’t happening until after the next Bearimy.” Michael adjusted his glasses as if he were squinting. As a demon though, he’d never needed to squint and so his face just scrunched up like he’d smelled a pair of used gym socks. 

Gabriel shrugged. “That’s the power of Tuesdays. An open stretch of interdimensional road going nowhere and everywhere. It’s nothing and it’s infinite.”

Michael nodded in resigned agreement. “And also July. So much potential for limitless use but nothing productive ever happens. As a torture device, it’s breathtakingly beautiful in its simplicity.”

“Yeah, sure. Listen. I need to borrow a pocket on the dot of the I for half a Bearimy.”

“Why?” Michael’s suspicion was almost adorable, but entirely unneeded. 

“For a spa day to wax my ass- Why do you think? I’m gonna torture a couple of poor schmucks and I need the space to let my mojo do its thing.”

That blew the suspicion clean off Michael’s spectacled face, replacing it with the glee Gabriel had seen amongst all demons in all versions of all hells in every alternate reality he’d crash-landed through so far. “Oh, of course! Absolutely! Follow me. I know just the pocket to use.”

Gabriel followed the demon down the endless office hallway. The mostly clean walls still gave off the stench and vibe of being moldy and damp in a nuisance kind of way, and the tiled floor was just sticky enough to make Gabriel question whatever was covering it but not so sticky as to slow his stride. He really appreciated the nuisance-level of this reality’s hell. It was a nice break from the Dante’s Inferno hellfire of his original reality. The minor inconveniences of off-center pictures with off-putting images - never outright obscene, but very unsettling - that, in combination with more obviously violent forms of torment, added up to eternal suffering in a manner worthy of a chef’s kiss. 

The looping music was a nice touch too. A replay of the Kars 4 Kids commercial, that Sarah McLachlan animal abuse commercial played by harmonicas and electric keyboards, and electronica that never let the bass drop. Punch it up to a classic rock song and Gabriel was already inspired. 

“Say, do you think I could add a suggestion or two? I just have a few ideas I’ve been working on-”

Gabriel knew where this was going. “I’m gonna stop you right there, Mike-a-nator. Do these ideas involve flattening penises?”

Predictably, Michael deflated at that, much like one of those flattened penises he and the demons of this particular bubblegum hell were so fond of. “I was going to fill them with chili sauce first and then flatten them towards the body instead.”

“It’s a flattened penis, Michael. Only so many times someone can get the same level of torture from someone flattening their penis.”

Michael frowned in thought. “What if they flattened their own penises?”

Torturing themselves wasn’t an inherently bad idea but, “You guys are really into the phallic stuff here. It’s concerning. You gotta mix it up a little buddy. Try something new!” Gabriel explained. 

“Bears with chainsaws?” 

“Love the drama, but it’s so impersonal. You gotta make it personal to them. That way it really hits home and they get all the torture for half the effort on your part.”

At Michael’s continued confusion Gabriel decided this could be a teachable moment. One torturer to another. 

“Help me workshop this guy I’m gonna start with,” He schmoozed, trying to throw an arm around Michael’s shoulder but settling for his waist when he couldn’t quite reach. “Dexter Hasselbeck. Just the name sounds wrong, like a real know-it-all asshole right? Anywho, Hasselbeck ruins everybody’s good time by telling folks things are fake and making more than a little money off people’s pissed-on imaginations. Basically, he ruins people’s childhoods and gets paid for it.”

“So how are you going to torture him?”

Gabriel smacked a thin manila file into Michael’s stomach. The contents were minimal, just basics about Dexter Hasselbeck, his Truth Warrior blog and books, his fears, likes and dislikes, embarrassing dreams, enough to get a basic read on the guy. “Tell me what stands out to you in that file.”

Michael flipped through several pages as they walked, murmuring to himself studiously in a way that was definitely for show. Around them, the off-putting, off-color hallway continued to drag on infinitely, narrowing slightly around them so the two had to step awkwardly around each other’s feet to move forward. There was definitely a level of annoyance to this hell that appealed to Gabriel, but not when he was the one in it. “Hmm. He did make quite a bit of money. And he didn’t do very much with it except hoard it.”

“Alright, so then a possible method of comeuppance might be…?” Gabriel urged.

“A bear chasing him down to steal his money!”

“That’s not-” Gabriel pulled Michael to a stop. “Buddy. We gotta work on this. You want that promotion don’t you?”

Michael sighed, pinching his face again and squinting at the file. Gabriel looked away before the urge to shit himself took over. “I do. I just don’t know how to draw out the creativity Kevin and the other demons are looking for.”

Gabriel poked loudly at the file. “Hey, none of that now. Look at the file again. What’s something else that pops out at you and says ‘Me! Use me! I’m a twistable little corkscrew for you to shove up someone’s ear canal!”

Michael looked through the file again, this time oohing and aahing quietly at different points and letting his fingers dance over lines on the page. “He doesn’t believe in black holes?”

“Not a bit.”

“And if he were to see one suddenly…”

“Yeah, uh-huh, ok.”

“Then you’re going to…”

“You’re right there, Mikey. Bring it on home.”

“Turn him into-No! Throw him into a black hole!”

“There you go!” Gabriel slapped a hand against Michael’s back. “Kind of lacking in dramatic flair but now you’re getting it.”

Michael honest-to-Dad chortled at that. An actual chortle of delight as he continued, “And with the black hole in the dot of the Bearimy it’ll last for an eternity and no time at all and he’ll be plunged in and out, in and out, over and over again!”

“Getting phallic again on me buddy, but you got it. See what I mean about personal? It’s that little touch that makes it special. And the best part is, they’ll just start torturing themselves after a bit so you and the other pitchfork pokers can take it easy once in a while.”

“This is what I’m missing in my work! That little spark of personal touch. Just like you said. Do you have any others I can look at? What about those two?” Michael gestured to the other files in Gabriel’s hands, reading off the top labels, “Winchester, Dean and Winchester, Sam. Do they get thrown in the black hole too?”

Gabriel howled at that. “Oh Mikey, Mikey-moo-lah-moo, Mike the Ike-el tower. That’s minor league stuff. I’ve got something extra personal in mind for them.”

“Oh, I understand.” Michael had the gall to keep his eyes down and scuffle his shoes theatrically. Overacting like some theatre kid with one line in the entire play milking it for all it was worth. “Maybe I could… Watch?”

“You want to watch.”

“Well, sure. You’ve been such a good teacher and I know there’s a lot more I could learn from you.”

Gabriel squinted at the demon. Squinted like an actual being who’d seen humans and other beings squint before, because he’d spent a millennia or two among them and knew some things about what made them tick and what made them cry in actual terror. Things Michael was still woefully ignorant of. 

But sue him, Gabriel was feeling helpful and he didn’t hate Michael and he got a kick out of babying someone named Michael even if that someone wasn’t his asshole literal big brother. So instead of flitting off down the hall himself he said, “You know what Michael? Sure. Why not? What’s the worst that could happen. We lose part of a Tuesday in July?”

Michael’s smiled stretched over his face, pulling the skin too tightly across the bone and underlying tissue giving him a malicious yet childlike grin. Combined with the chipper clapping of his hands Gabriel almost felt a shiver of something hellish crawl up his spine. Maybe there was hope for the kid yet. 

And because Gabriel was feeling extra generous over that possibility he added, “If this goes well, maybe you’ll have a shot at some experimentation in there too.”

“Really?! Well, I have this idea about food poisoning. Chili sauce on bad tacos, you know? And- And those little animated movies where instruments flatten people under them?”

“Pianos? Wait, you’re not back to flattening things already are you?”

Michael quickly shook his head as they finally reached the right door. Dad-Dammit that took way too long, and if Gabriel looked back at where they’d come from he had the unsettling feeling that the hallway would just shrink to a measly 20 feet instead of the city blocks they’d traveled. 

Michael opened the door for Gabriel and they stepped into the void in the dot of I. “Holding both of these realities in one part of the same pocket may create issues. Bits of continuity that don’t line up. Especially since you’re not from this dimension.”

Gabriel frowned. “I can handle it. And don’t get cocky on me. You’re just here to watch and take notes. Don’t go thinking you’re gonna get to build this thing.”

The demon held his hands up in placation and took a step sideways, giving Gabriel room. 

“Now then,” Gabriel cracked his neck, shaking out his arms and legs in preparation for a marathon of prep work before dear Mr. Hasselbeck and the pretty boy Winchesters could be brought in for the main event. “Let’s have some fun.”

**Author's Note:**

> Gabriel and Michael would’ve had fun if they’d ever met. Agreed? Cool. 
> 
> What do you think? Are Tuesdays as infinitely weird as I’m making them out to be or am I just sick of living in 2020, the year that was Tuesday and March?


End file.
